


Frost and the Southern Wind

by Ms_Julius



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Moicy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Moira has returned to Ireland, and as she stands admiring the view of her homeland, she is reminded of something else altogether.





	Frost and the Southern Wind

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic with this pair, we'll see how it goes.  
> Slightly inspired by Finnish song by Antti Railio, called "Halla ja etelätuuli",  
> link here if you wanna check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkQb9yVFs-U
> 
> I put the translation to end notes in case someone is interested.

As she stood at the ledge of the high mountain, a biting gush of wind rushed past her and ruffled up her red hair. The forest surrounding the peak of the rocky hill was covered by the powdery snow and despite the freezing temperature of - 15°C, a flock of  birds could be heard singing to each other in a shelter of a nearby silver fir. Far before her, a mass of clouds was starting to grovel closer to the main land, darkening the sky beneath.

In her young years in Ireland, Moira had learned to smell the forming storm beforehand, the static energy racing through the air, the electric charge making her nerves tingle. And it seemed this was going to be a major one.

Unlike some people, Moira had never truly feared the loud crashes of lightnings, or the hammering rain and possible floods going along it all. In fact, storms like this always filled her thoughts with memories of the old times. Happier times.

They wouldn’t stay here much longer, she knew that. Even if the visit was cut short, she was glad Blackwatch had stationed in Ireland for a first time during her time with the organization. She didn’t get to see her homeland often, but that only made the brief stays all the more comforting. There was something soothing about the way the sky moved, and the sounds of familiar sloshes of the waves hitting against the rocky shore below her.

She should head back already. While she was standing here, reminiscing the old days, there was research to be done, a stack of unread study papers waiting for her markings, and an empty lab in need of the weekly cleaning. Bottles to wash, needles to sanitize...

With a slow move of a hand, she pulled out a small metallic box from the pocket of her winter coat. The surface of it was worn in use, but the hinges slip open without a sound, proving that the case was in daily use. From inside of the velvet folds, she picked up an used needle. There was still some liquid inside, the yellow color standing out against the pale skin of her hand which shone through the glass container.

How many years had it been since she had last used it? Five, or more? She couldn’t remember. The past half of a decade had gone by in a mist, and she had noticed herself having troubles separating what exactly had been going on since the...

* * *

_“You can’t just march in here every time you have a headache!”_

_The blonde, shoulder-length hair was tied up to a ponytail, making the pale face peeking under it look intimidating. Angela’s usually clean and prim clothes were covered in blue stains, and the lab itself looked like it had been bombed by an alien race. Not even a ceiling had survived without a hit._

_Leaning her back against the door frame, Moira took a glance at her partner. “Well, it is distracting my work. And while your merits among more serious medical deeds remain unseen,” she cast a meaningful look at the destroyed lab, “your painkillers are top-notch.”_

_“Nobody but you can manage to sound so dismissive while asking for help.” With a huff, Angela pushed herself up from the office chair she had been seated and moved across the room to rummage through her large medicine cabinet._

_“You know, you could just learn to brew this yourself. The process is quite simple one -”_

_A low chuckle interrupted her. “Oh dear, I know it is, darling. If I am to be completely honest, this is just a poor excuse to intrude your lab during working hours.” The genetic expert leaned forward, a small smirk dancing on her lips. “I do enjoy seeing you in your uniform.”_

_A blush spread to younger woman’s cheeks, and she shoved the cylinder of yellow fluid to Moira’s hands._

_“There’s your medicine. Now go, before I’m tempted to struck a needle in you myself.”_

_The Irishwoman’s easy laugh was enough to bring a tiny grin on the good doctor’s face as well._

* * *

As she stood there, watching over her homeland, Moira’s hand instinctively curled around the needle, the metal shell turning cold in her grasp. She had hold onto it far longer than should be considered normal, and there had been countless of times when she had truly made an effort to throw it away.

And yet...

A frustrated sigh forced its way up from her throat, and once again she was close to just toss the damned thing as far as she possibly could, watch it fall down into the valley below, crushing when hitting the sharp rock at the bottom. But her fingers couldn’t let go. She couldn’t let go.

These thoughts of the younger doctor swirled inside her head every time she allowed herself to stop and let her mind wander. Memories of that sincere smile, of a elegant hand that brushed back a lock of blonde hair whenever it managed to escape from the loose ponytail. Of those weeks of a warm August nights they spent walking side by side around the cities of unknown, getting to know the places they traveled with Overwatch by heart while commenting minor details and traits of each town.

They’d had fun together. But then her research had kicked off, and things changed...

* * *

_It was a silent afternoon indeed. During her first hour of work, Moira had not seen anybody around the labs, corridors or even in the common room next to the kitchen. The silence was starting to get on her nerves, and while putting aside her current experiment of gene slicing formula, she clicked the lights shut, close the door leading to her personal laboratory and started to walk up to the second floor of the large building._

_According to her memory there were no holidays going on right now, nor had there been any notions of other work-related off-days this month. Surely she would have remembered such a thing? Her memory was as impeccable as was her work ethic. Even Angela sometimes commented of her notorious working hours..._

_Angela! She was always on duty, no matter the date or time. That was one of the few things they truly had in common, and with a new certainty in her steps, Moira moved fast through the rambling hallways towards the medical station located in the far left wing of the science complex._

_On her way she riffled the worn-out folder in her hands, the pages slightly stained by errant coffee drops and the paper edges softened by  daily browsing. Her research had proven far more effective than she had initially thought, and by this rate she would be able to pitch the idea of genetically enhanced medical band-aids in a month. Although it was merely a first step in what Moira believed to be a new age of the genetic engineering, if this idea went through, there was no visible reasons to decline her other, far more revolutionary inventions regarding human’s lifespan and the modifications one could provide to extend it. Just a few more tests with living subjects and she would be ready..._

_A sharp clink of heels pulled her from her thoughts. Further along the corridor she could see a blond haired woman slipping to a office room, the door clicking shut after her._

_Moira picked up her pace. Her hand closing around the handle of the door, she let herself in without knocking, the habit of which she had been scolded many times before but one she seemed unable to break. Angela wouldn’t mind. She never did._

_As she pushed past the door frame into the scantily alighted room, she heard a creak of a office chair. Right after it a heavy sigh reached her ears, the defeated tone of it making her unease and cautious, and she felt her heart picking up a faster tempo._

_Something was wrong._

_Slowly, the tall woman walked over to stand next to the table. She leaned part of her weight against the wooden desktop, turning her gaze to the young doctor sitting beside her._

_“I suppose it was not an unfortunate coincidence that the whole building was empty today, was it?”_

_Angela’s head dipped lower, not meeting her eyes. “No, it wasn’t.”_

_“I see.” The Irish accent was starting to color Moira’s speech, the harsh R rolling from her tongue when she spoke again. “There is something going on here, Angela. Something you are not telling me.”_

_Blue eyes came to life in a second, the look in them burning with such ferocity that Moira felt her chest tighten up. The normally calm and caring doctor was now fuming with emotion, and the aura flaring around her was strong enough to cause the gene scientist to take a step back._

_“You used me, Moira. Me and my research.”_

_There was no question in there. It was a pure statement, challenging the older woman to defend herself, to deny the claims. But how could she, when the evidence of her actions were written down in the folder resting in her left hand at this very moment. And from the looks of it, Angela knew this too, as her sharp eyes snapped to the file of papers, the anger bursting out even stronger when she noticed the way Moira was trying to keep it away from her line of sight. “That’s it, right? That new invention of yours. The one you constructed out of my formulas and test results? Modifying them to suit in your twisted view of science?”_

_There was no need to answer. Carefully, Moira set the folder on the desk, keeping her movements slow and obvious. Before she could open her mouth to explain, Angela continued her talk, standing up from behind the table and starting to pace around the tiny room. Moira made no move to stop her._

_“We had a meeting this morning. About you.”_

_Closing her eyes, Moira let out a huff of air, running her fingers through her combed hair. “I suspected that much.” Leaning more heavily against the desk, she asked: “And how it turned out?” She didn’t want to hear the answer. Not when she saw the fine tremble shaking her beloved’s shoulders._

_With a barely audible sigh, Angela spun around, locking her pale eyes with Moira’s heterochromic ones. “A decision was made, and I agree with it. The types of experiment you have run, using my work as basics...” The piercing gaze fell down, blond head bending. A monotone, defeated voice spoke out, and Moira could hear the pain lying behind it._

_“I didn’t ever think you would take your maniac plans this far.”_

_Like a knife through a chest, even though she knew it was coming. The sting felt like a burning blade, and it took all Moira’ will-power to keep her face neutral, her expression unemotional. Yet it hurt. It hurt so much._

_She had to try, at least attempt to save her connection with the Swiss doctor. Her doctor. While remaining mainly still, she extended her hand out, reaching for the warm palm of Angela’s._

_Her fingers met bare air._

_“I didn’t want to believe you’d be so cold at heart. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to sit there, in front of everybody, and learn that they all had known for weeks now what you had been doing, how you had stolen my notes, used them to manipulate the formulas meant for helping humankind, and had a nerve to come back to me and act like it was all nice and well?” A small hand rose to press against her forehead, partially covering her paled face. “Then again, moral was the one topic we never even remotely agreed on.” Angela turned her back, refusing to face the older woman. “I think it is best if you’d leave right now.” Her voice shook, her head remaining bent. “And I am going to accept an offer I got from Switzerland’s Medical Organization. I am moving back home.”_

_Her steps faltering, Moira moved closer to the woman she had grown to adore, her throat feeling tight as she tried to speak up._

_“I could come as well. My work here is getting stale, and perhaps a new environment would -”_

_“No.” The doctor was glaring at her now, her shoulders squared, posture straight and unwavering. “I do not want you with me, Moira.” A minor tremor tinted her last sentence. “Not anymore.”_

_It hit like a blade yet again, Moira’s fists clenching as she took in a shaky gasp of air. While the pain in her chest was growing stronger, the tall woman closed her eyes, managing to squeeze out her final question, the last thing she wished to know before it was over._

_“Are you afraid of me, doctor Ziegler?”_

_The look in those once gentle blue eyes was enough to punch a hole in her heart even before she heard the silent word._

_“Yes.”_

* * *

Her fingers curled around the needle, her unseeing gaze resting onto the landscape in front of her, never noticing the way cold, freezing Irish wind whipped her skin, causing her eyes tear up. With a frustrated huff and swipe of a hand, she brushed them aside, and turned to look at the syringe.

She had been a fool. The whole concept of two of them, her cold and calculated nature opposing Angela’s kind and warm personality, was delusional. They weren’t compatible. Never had been.

Angela had just seen the truth before she had a chance.

Still, as she started her walk back to the Blackwatch’s base, she slipped the box back to her pocket, pressing her hand firmly against the fabric.

She would toss it away tomorrow.

Or day after that.

Just as she had intended to do for past five years now.

**Author's Note:**

> Even if I caught drift sand in my eyes  
> on my journeys to the distant edge of the world,  
> I don't regret a moment.  
> I go through my life fumbling.  
> I am at home wherever I go  
> I’ll always make a haven into my heart.
> 
> But I will remember you forever  
> I remember that August of ours  
> when we both thought  
> that against our nature  
> we could become fond of each other:  
> frost and the southern wind.
> 
> Frost and the southern wind. That's what we both believed.
> 
> Somewhere over there, in the low-lying lands  
> you are sure of your decision, I hope.  
> As you arrive, you’ll see high sky, drizzling.  
> You’ll miss the winter and the darkness of it,  
> ruthless, clear as the bright star.
> 
> But I will remember you forever.  
> I remember that August of ours  
> when we both thought  
> that against our nature  
> we could become fond of each other:  
> frost and the southern wind.
> 
> Frost and the southern wind. That's what we both believed.
> 
> And when a storm arises from the horizon  
> to me, it's always a sign of us.  
> Of love that won't allow one to stay.  
> Whose intensity still seeks for its equal.
> 
> But I will remember you forever.  
> I remember that August of ours  
> when we both thought  
> that against our nature  
> we could become fond of each other:  
> frost and the southern wind.  
> (singing)  
> That against our nature  
> we could become fond of each other:  
> frost and the southern wind.
> 
> Frost and the southern wind. That's what we both believed.


End file.
